


Damn, This Girl Is Driving Me Crazy

by wannabehipster



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Drunk Sex, F/M, Stranger Sex, ended up being more fluffy, girl!Niall, just an excuse to write porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:30:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabehipster/pseuds/wannabehipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cisgirl!Niall and Harry meet at a club and sex ensues everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn, This Girl Is Driving Me Crazy

He sees her first, all swaying hips and bright blonde hair, and he sits and sips his drink-cocky enough to know that she'll catch his gaze and make it _worth it_ (they always do). She's dancing with some other guy, hips are swaying slightly off to the beat (he's not even holding her remotely close, hands are lying limp against her waist) and he knows he **can** and will make it better. She throws a glance over her shoulder, her piercing ocean eyes meeting his with a crackling intensity that leaves him increasingly uncomfortable in his jeans.

He downs a shot of some fancy imported liquor (he was feeling adventurous tonight) and sets the frosted glass down on the polished wood of the bar, throat burning slightly with the alcohol flowing down it. He never liked getting shitfaced because he has horrible hangovers-the hours in front of the toilet and vomiting your brains out kind-so he settles for borderline tipsy, with only a martini or two in his system and just as many shots. The song ends, leaving a beat or two of silence with only the buzz of the crowd talking, and then there's a slight tap on his shoulder-two fingers thrumming against the bone and the touch shouldn't send a shiver down his spine (but it really does).

She's standing there, her breasts directly eye level (he can't help but lick his lips at the sight) but drags his eyes up to meet hers. “Fuck, you're gorgeous” he breaths out as he absorbs her features; her creamy complexion with a dusting of rose across her cheeks, blonde hair that looks softer than silk, candy-apple red lips that look delicious, and her eyes- deep cerulean in color and framed by a simple sweep of eyeliner.

The girl (though woman would be more fitting if you take her assets into consideration) sat down on the stool directly across from him, shuffling closer so their kneecaps were touching and the contact sent a wave of heat through him. “You're not to ugly yourself,” she teases and he was memorized by the movement of her lips and the rich Irish accent she possessed.

“I mean every word I'll ever say to you m'dear.” He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, grazing the smooth skin of her knuckles. He wants (though crave would be a good substitute) this woman, wants to take her a thousand different ways during the course of a hundred different days (and repeat the pattern again and again) and the best way to get her wanting the same thing was through romance. “I'm Harry, just a head's up for later.” He winks and interlocks his fingers with hers, capturing her dainty ones with his much larger ones.

“I'm Niall,” she says shyly and he's already fallen for her, crashing but not yet burning (which he takes as a good sign). He tugs her up with him when the unbearable itch of touching her becomes present, relishing the fact that's a good 3 inches taller than her before she's tugging him back to the dance floor, he's not protesting since he gets a fantastic view of her arse.

The dress she's wearing fit her like a glove, shiny silver material gliding over her slender frame and hugging all her curves. The collar was cut daringly, dipping down right above the valley of her breasts and the hem clinging right under her butt, more skin was on display then dress (which he was completely okay with, as long as he's the only one who gets to admire it up close). They're suddenly in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by tens of other couples but it feels like only them as the music starts up, a wicked dubstep drumming through the speakers. He grabs her hips hard, probably going to leave pretty little marks (he wants that, physical evidence of what they now are) and pulls her flush against his body.

She fits perfectly with him, like God built them for each other (the thought of that sends his heart pattering) and she starts swaying with the beat of the music, grinding into him sinfully and the bass drops. She bends over slightly, so their backs aren't touching anymore and he can see the curve of her spine and the form of her shoulder blades peeking through the thin fabric and he's desperate to take it off (desperate like a man who quit cigarettes cold turkey). He spins her around so he can see her pretty eyes and pouty lips and he doesn't deny the primal urge to kiss her this time, so he dips his head-trapping her body under his- and presses his chapped lips to hers.

She tastes like watermelons and vodka and her lips are soft and pliant under his, opening slightly with just a tap of his tongue; he presses in relentlessly as his fascination of everything Niall continued to grow. He swallows her moan as he ruts into her, hips bumping against each other crudely. They sway to the beat as their lips move languidly, knowing very well they have all the time in the world (even though there's about 4 hours left until daylight). The song switches again, and again- and they don't stop until breathing through their noses becomes stuffy. He nudges her legs open with his knee, sliding a hand down to the hem of her dress and playing with the fabric (while brushing across her quivering pale thighs) and she's whimpering into his shoulder with an edge of desperation. 

“Please,” she begs even thought she doesn't know what for and he smirks up at the ceiling. He pulls away then, taking a miniscule step back to clear the air and evaluate her being. She's a wreck already; a flush spreading across her cheeks, down her neck and her pupils dilated in the low lighting of the club. Harry swears on his grave that she'll forever be the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

“Back to my place?” He asks and she nods furiously because her throat has closed up by now, the tremulous feeling of lust making it hard to come up with a proper wordy answer. He pulls her in close by wrapping a protective arm around her waist and she's melting into him; feeling safe all over and she's gonna become addicted to it (if she isn't already). The pair leave the club, stepping into the brisk September air. She trembles when the air hits her overheated skin and he rubs small circles into the arm that's not pressed into him. “We'll have to take the subway, only two stops.” He adds in as they start walking towards the underground station.

Niall makes a face of inspiration, as she tugs him towards a nearby alleyway until they're obscured from sidewalk view. “I want to try something,” she mumbles as a warning before sinking down to her knees, fumbling with his pants zipper until it's pulled down to it's end. His thoughts (and weak protests he wants to vocalize) come to a halt as she delicately frees his cock from the confines of his boxers; she's thumbing at the head, collecting the drops of precome gathering there and the color compliments her pale skin perfectly. Suddenly he's seeing a flash of white when she sinks her head down, taking him farther than most people can (he wonders idly how many blowjobs she's given, how many people she's done this to before him) but the thoughts stop when her tongue does something magical against his slit.

She's working the base and bobbing her head with the same pace, a heady mix of slow and passionate and it's making Harry’s head swim. He's seeing stars behind his eyelids (which are screwed shut), but he dares a glance down to see thick blonde hair but he wants to see her face. As if she knew his thoughts, she flicked her hair back and stared up at him with large doe eyes (managing to look so innocent while blowing somebody was no easy feat).

He jerks his hips, causing her to gag a little as the tip hits the back of her throat, but she keeps him that deep (this girl will be the death of him), hollowing her cheeks so the outline of his dick is presented to him. He shakily runs a thumb across her cheek, pressing slightly into the hollow of her cheek and she laughs-the vibrations rumbling right through his cock. There's a coiling low in his gut that's all to familiar and he can barely mutter out a “gonna come” before releasing inside of her. She swallows every drop, Adam's apple bobbing with the sheer amount of it; she presses a kiss to the head before standing up and licking her lips to clear any remains of his spunk. There's a sparkle in her eyes, like she knows how far she can push it and Harry wants revenge.

Harry groans before closing the gap between them, licking into her mouth so he can taste himself in all the crevices and murmurs his thanks into her. “Fuck the subway, we'll take a taxi.” He gives in with good grace and she nuzzles her face into his neck as he hails one. Almost instantly a yellow taxi pulls up and the window rolls down and a gravely voice rumbles “do you kids need a ride?”.

“Yes please!” Niall exclaims with a bright smile that hurts Harry's chest and scrambles into the backseat, patting the seat next to her for him. He slides in next to her and she instantly cuddles closer and then he gets the best revenge plan a boy could come up with. He wraps an arm around her frame and she's making a content sigh in the back of her throat.

The glass panel that separates the driver and the passenger opens and the driver speaks once again. “Where to?” he asks, his voice rough from years of smoking (at least that's what Harry presumes) but there's a hit of a smile which is calming. Harry recites his address and the driver nods in recognition before the sliding door closes; Harry's lifting her onto his lap before the engine even starts.

“Payback time baby.” He murmurs into the junction of her neck, scraping his teeth against the smooth, unmarked skin. She lets out a little squeak as he sucks hard, breaking the skin just enough to create a mark; he pulls back to admire his work before pressing his fingers to the coloring bruise- she lets out another squeak (this one a tad more drawn out then the previous).

He pulls her into a kiss, one hand cupping the curve of her neck and the other one creeping slowly towards her center; he sucks on her lower lip as his fingers breach the hem of her skirt. He traces a finger up her soaking panties with the slightest bit of pressure to have her squirming in an effort to stay silent. He pushes them aside and delves in, already creating a rather rough pace with his index and middle finger; his lips pressed to her open ones to catch every noise she's making. He doesn't want to interrupt the driver, after all. He thumbs at her clit softly, drawing tiny circles into her as his fingers work her higher and higher. She's coming undone and he's relishing in it, savoring every breathless moan and grind of her hips with a taunting grin. He curls his fingers and accidentally hits that one spot that has her mewing furiously, the sounds she's making completely out of her (considerably small) control; he loves that, so he hits that spot over and over again until her thighs are quivering with the sensations. Niall bites down on his bottom lip as she reaches her climax, cumming with a violent shake and a final rut of her hips.

Her hair is a wreck, pupils still blown wide and her pale skin is flushed a warm pink, she has this sated smirk on her face and Harry thinks he might be in love. He doesn't want to look away-doesn't want to miss a second of looking at her- but he has to see how close they are to his building (he recognizes the area, only about five minutes away). He mumbles into her neck- something along the lines of “try and attempt to look not as sated, the doorman wouldn't appreciate it very much” (or at least that's what Niall thought he said, with her mind still hazy from orgasm, words aren't as important).

She pulls herself together just in time to get out of the cab, fixing her hair in the window reflection and Harry can't help but smile adoringly as she untangles a knot with a determined look on her face. The driver pulls up to his apartment building, they step out together-as if they're glued at the hip- and Harry gives the older man a twenty (“keep the change mate,” he says cheerfully) before stepping onto the concrete walkway with her dainty hand clasped in his. He escorts her to the elevator, with only a disapproving look by the doorman (who in Harry's opinion, needs to get laid) so he considers this an accomplishment. 

“My best friend lives in this building actually,” Niall says conversationally as the electronic doors close. She steps closer to him, plastering herself on him so his second hard-on of the night fit perfectly in the swell of her ass, and she gives him another wicked smile as he lets out a quiet groan. He chooses to ignore his reaction and snakes his arms around her waist, dipping down to whisper “oh, what floor?” in her ear (making sure to graze his teeth along the outer shell.)

“Third floor, two doors past the staircase.” She replies a bit breathlessly and Harry can't help the shit-eating grin that he makes (thank the heavens that she can't see his face, or a seduction battle would've been inevitable). He tightens his grip on her slightly, feeling possessive over Niall, as another male steps into the elevator with them; the glare he was sporting was most likely thunderous as the stranger stood on the complete opposite of the small space. Niall placed her hands on top of his, rubbing small patterns across the smooth skin (he wish he could deny the relief and comfort the touch brought him, but he's shit at lying). They stand in the silence for a few minutes as the elevator makes it's way to the correct floor, once it does-Harry's dragging her out the door the second it opens.

They're tripping over each other as he leads them both to his apartment, too eager for whatever fate has planned for them and when they reach the door Harry starts fumbling with his keys; he's too drunk (off the alcohol or the arousal, he can't be assed enough to think about it). When he manages to stick the key in the lock and the door swings open, Niall grabs him by the collar and guides him into the room. “Bedroom. Now.” She demands (the words tug at the heat in his abdomen) and Harry's never been one to deny, so he points to the last door on the left side of the hallway and lets himself be dragged by the determined blonde.

He blanks out for a second, mind going fuzzy with the tumbling feelings, and when he snaps back into reality-his knees are hitting the edge of his mattress. He grabs at her waist and flips them over, so he can hover above her and just _look,_ but looking gets pushed back on his priority list when she wriggles against his lower half. Something inside of him snaps (most likely the gentleman side of him) and when it breaks, he's pulling her up the bed and nudging a leg in between hers.

She gets the message and spreads her legs so he can fit between them; the clothing separating them is frustrating so he starts tugging at the hem of her dress, like an impatient little boy. She giggles and raises her hips and the dress is quickly removed, revealing almost every inch of her milky skin. Niall squirms under his intense gaze, a fit of insecurity washing through her (what if he notices the faint marks across her stomach or the abnormally shaped birthmark under her bellybutton?), she's subconsciously curling into herself; Harry lays a warm hand on her stomach, thumb resting over her navel. “Don't, you are gorgeous.” He whispers huskily, capturing her gaze with his and she's having trouble not believing him.

“It's just, I've never felt this way around somebody before.” She admits, raising her arms to wrap around his neck-pulling him into a kiss that's all teeth, tongue and spit. Harry breaks the kiss, moving his lips to kiss a trail from her jaw to her collarbone (stopping momentarily to nibble her earlobe which emits a sharp breath from her). Once he reaches his destination, he laps at the hollow of her throat before latching onto it with reckless abandon. He suckles for a half second before pulling away from it, admiring his handy work with a playful grin.

“Good or bad?” He asks as he drops his head to her breast, mouthing at it to test her reaction; if the low groan she made gave him an indication that she likes the attention. He runs his tongue around the outer edge of her nipple before pulling it into his mouth, she's writhing underneath him with the slightest touch.

“God so good, so fucking go-” she answers, her sentence being cut short by a broken moan. He's slowly dragging his hand across her taut stomach and stops right above the lacy hem of her panties, running his finger along the line of the soft lace until she's begging for some form of friction. Harry decided to be the good guy and takes them off-tossing them across the room (it's not like she'll be needing them anytime soon, he thinks). He positions himself between her hips, nosing at her folds as a non-verbal warning before licking a long stripe upwards. A high-pitched keen slips from her lips as he slips her tongue inside of her; he reaches up to roll her clit between his forefinger and thumb as he curls his tongue against that _one_ spot that has her seeing white. 

She cants her hips in frustration as he's alternating between tiny kitten licks and small open mouth kisses (she wants to cum already, god dammit); “ _please_ ” she begs in a voice so wrecked and desperate that it barely sounds like her. He pauses to contemplate her plea-ignoring the displeased whine that falls from her parted lips-before giving in with good grace and thrusts his tongue as deep as he can. He's rubbing at her clit with the same steady rhythm as his tongue, all she can do is tangle her fingers around his curls and hold him in place.

Her second orgasm of the night hits her like a train wreck, white hot pleasure sizzling her nerves and her eyes close involuntary; he laps her through it since her creamy thighs are trapping him there (not like it's a bad thing, but still, he's painfully hard against his stomach and the sheets are giving him _no_ friction.) She tugs his hair and pulls him forward (he notes her impressive strength but then his erection grazes against her stomach and it feels fantastic) and she captures his lips in between hers-tasting herself all over him and it's hotter than she expected.

“Can I...?” He ends his questions with a motion that encompasses her vagina and his penis and he's praying his point gets made (words are so difficult when you're sporting a painful hard-on). She laughs breathlessly and nods, throwing her hands behind her head as she smirks devilishly at him. There's a deep sigh of relief bubbling out of him as he digs through his beside drawer for a condom; a triumphant smile breaks through his face as he pulls one out of the seemingly never-ending drawer. He wastes no time in rolling it on, even if his hands are slightly shaky- Niall (bless her soul) makes no attempt to tease him, instead staring at him with lidded navy eyes.

Harry shuffles up towards her and fits himself between her legs that she didn't bother to close; he grabs her hips-fingers encompassing her slim waist easily. With a single thrust, he slides into her and a small grunt escapes his lips as he rocks them both to an old R&B song that's stuck in his head (just in the back, because most of his thought is focused on the feeling of her everywhere)

It doesn't take long for him to cum, the slow and steady beat becoming staccato as he fills up the condom. She hums at the loss when he pulls out, tossing the used latex in the small bin by the table; he lowers her down gently under her back is pressed into the soft sheets-but he doesn't let her go.

Instead he lays down next to her, pulling her flush against his body because he craves the constant warmth radiating off of her (he's also a cuddler, but he'll take that secret to the grave.) She lolls her against his chest, comforted by the steady _ba-bum_ of his heart; he holds her tight ( _so tight, like she'll slip away from his grasp any moment_ ) as he listens to her breath even out.

Just before he drifts to sleep, she whispers with her voice low and secretive-like she was going to tell him confidential information- “I know I drove you crazy tonight...”

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LiveJournal September 18th :)


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